Like this:

A lad at a fair who was lacking directions,
found a booth which was offering temp’ral projections.
“We’ll show you the future, we’ll show you the past,
you’ll gape at the first and you’ll gasp at the last.”
Being fond of projections, and not short of time,
he sat in the chamber and paid in the dime.
There were buttons for films of both pre- and post-diction
in all sorts of genres; he chose science fiction.

Way out behind the shroud of night,
beyond the Milky Way
the sothnax live in perfect time,
not slaves of night or day.

They see the world through two stalked eyes
one each of time and space.
What humans see as future time
is just a further place.

In such a world it’s rather hard
to pull off any capers,
a fresh-made scheme is by that time
already in the papers.

But one mad sothnax killed and fled
without the slightest plan
without the slightest thought that time
flew faster than he ran.

For since a lengthy moment he
was blinded in one eye,
the police approached, and just in time,
the killer found out why.

For all the speed a photon has,
it’s far outpaced by souls.
For all their pow’rs to see through time,
they can’t see through black holes.

And so the killer’s soul escaped
and made its way toward Earth,
to steal a dying egg in time
to steer it back toward birth.

Their unforeseen collision forced
the dying human soul
to think it was not yet its time.
They fused to make a whole.

But enough with this fiction of tempo-transmography,
Our fact-hungry viewer went next to biography.

Chpamnorbosg Eiurnyngillyng
Lived a life of greed and killing
then he got in a mother
and started another.

And with that our young lad was left thirsting for more
so he pressed on the button that said ‘film d’amour’.

roses are red,
sothnax xanthose.
One soul mates a sothnax,
two soulmates arose.

Such soulful emotion was too strong a homily,
So to lighten things up he selected a comedy

An alien thought he was winning
till he got into trouble for sinning
So he came down to Earth
underwent a new birth
and completely forgot his beginning.

Just for fun our lad moved to the edge of his chair
then selected a horror and braced for a scare.

She screamed bloody murder
as the monster interred her
and without an escape route
she was juiced like a grapefruit
but the killer’s black soul
sped to make a black hole
to escape being observed
an escape undeserved.

And he grew as a boy
with no thoughts of the ploy
till the day he was found
by a bloodless bloodhound

And our hero could see that in fact it was he,

and they came in the stall
and forced his downfall
he screamed a waul
lost the brawl
lost all
gall

In my continuing quest to do everything that Jonathan Coulton does, I’ve used all the words from everything I wrote from the Ace to the King of spades (including letter-inspired writing from that period) to create this most excellent word cloud at the even more most excellent site Wordle.

My first attempt had the words ‘I’m excellent’ perfectly aligned, but then I went and changed the font. Still, there are some interesting messages to be found in this one.

Like this:

It’s not often that something I say metaphorically ends up on the front page of the newspaper as the literal truth less than 48 hours later. This is what I saw when I got home this evening:

Or if you’re French, Surprise: Nitrates are good for the heart! Isn’t that what I said in last week’s Thing? Clearly I chose the right suit to post that poem in. And the right deck as well — this is indeed an intriguing development.

And as if that weren’t enough, while I was still downloading that image from my camera, I found out that Jonathan Coulton is coming Over Here again, for concerts in London and elsewhere. I booked a ticket in the panic, hopefully I’ll be able to go. Perhaps I should self-publish the spades already so I’ll have a nice shiny book to give him.

Share and Enjoy:

Like this:

The following is to be sung to the tune of ‘My Favourite Things’ from The Sound of Music. For those of you who either don’t know the tune, or prefer to listen to something being sung badly than to imagine it being sung well, here is a hastily recorded demo.

Leptons and sleptons and quarks and gluinos,
positrons, Higgs bosons, muon neutrinos.
Some folks will tell you that all of these things
are just vibrations in closed loops of string.

D-branes and p-branes and strings heterotic,
worldsheets and nerd feats and mesons exotic,
Scores of false vacuums and questions they bring,
many more concepts that I can not sing

All existence
from Planck distance
strings can well explain,
and if you don’t think that 1D is enough,
then gen’ralise to membrane.

Don’t tie your strings into everyday chatter.
Don’t tell the truth when they ask what’s the matter.
Ordin’ry people just ask on which fing-
er they should put your new synchrotron ring.

Start off by getting all Klein-and-Kaluzy.
Add more dimensions and then you’ve got SUSY.
Have fun with spinors and Lie groups and rings,
call it a theory of everything.

When they mention
your dimension
doesn’t seem to show,
you simply remind them they’re all curled up small,
and that we will never know.